


Rebelling Against Who We Were

by raytororo



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Drug Abuse, M/M, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-23
Updated: 2014-05-01
Packaged: 2018-01-16 19:12:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 12,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1358713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raytororo/pseuds/raytororo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Party Poison gets into some nasty habits and Fun Ghoul feels required to fix him to his old self, for the sake of the team and possibly Party's own life</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Our Sun Goes Black

**Author's Note:**

> I've been RPing Party on my RP blog, and always love some kinda of drama, so I stuck to drug abuse and a little something extra to keep the blog alive and spontaneous. After almost 5 months, I've slowed down role playing and sacrificed my time to work. I've just felt the need to share how dramatic I portrayed the Dustverse of MCR, with my own twist to some very ambiguous characters. I'm not a very good writer, but I hope you enjoy nonetheless.
> 
> *All told from Fun Ghoul's POV, the beginning is him telling a story*

We thought he was turning against us at first, watching as we saw our infamous red-headed leader and friend running off in the middle of the night. Out of our other suspicions, we half-hoped that he actually was betraying his friends and family. Oh God, if only he was a traitor to the killjoys, maybe it would've saved a lot of trouble and pain. We never imagined our hero could be getting into life-destroying habits.

We could only blame ourselves, thinking that maybe we could have stopped him if only we caught him sooner, watching the red-head slowly digress from the once healthy hero he was to a weak, frail man. The transition was heartbreaking and unreal for all of us, seeing it happen so fast before our very eyes. Poison was smart about it, at first, sneaking off at dusk, using the excuse that he was “on a late patrol” or out “scouting for supplies.” Of course we trusted him, he is our leader after all, but we should've caught the signs. Then, after one of his disappearances, he would try to sneak back into the diner where we all slept. I was the first one to catch on, luckily, or not so much. 

“Party Poison? Where the hell have you been? It's two in the goddamn mornin'.” I asked him one night, lucky to wake up at the hour to fetch some water for our Girl who had woken up in the middle of the night with a dry throat.

He'd simply respond with,“Out," and of course, it wasn't enough for me. My curiosity had always gotten the best of me since I can remember.

"Really?" I'd quirk and eyebrow, smiling at him as if staring back in the eyes of my usual best friend. It was dark, and hard to see him shaking violently, thinking he was just himself being a stubborn, secretive ass. 

"I told you," He snapped at me then, feeling my body recoil from his harsh voice. He had never raised his voice at me like that before. "I said I was out." He was staring wide-eyed at me before scuttling back into the depths of his own room, leaving me behind with a glass of water in my hands, shaking a bit myself. And that would be that.

But I was an idiot. Of all things, I should've figured that Poison's usual stubbornness wasn't a part of all this. No, it was worse, but only if I had known then. I regret not asking him more about his life. No. Sometimes I actually regret even finding out. I wish I never had to knew so I wouldn't have to eat at me inside.- or even about his time outside, but we all just assumed that he was doing what he told us he was: Just scouting while out on patrol. Another part of me of me wished he would just come out and tell me what was up, but he didn't come out to it, ever. We just had to find out the hard way instead, which, I wish never had to happen. As I said before, I wish I never found out about any of this. My heart could barely work on it's own after the Party incident. No one has been the same since, honestly, and I think all of us know it too.

After two months of letting this disaster start, I had told Jet Star of my suspicions. Instead of calling me crazy, he told me that he did notice how odd Party's behavior seemed off too, and was about to ask me about the same thing later that day. We spoke about the matter for a while to ourselves, coming up with our own guesses as to what he could actually be possibly doing out there all alone. Jet suggested that he was cheating on me, but I told him it was impossible, knowing Party too well. And I would suggest that he's plotting with BLI/nd against the Killjoys, but Jet would only shake his head He was a lover, not some We vowed to keep it from his brother, Kobra Kid, and investigate ourselves, just to save his brother the stress. Maybe if we did get Kid involved, maybe this wouldn't have happened.

So one night, I told Jet to follow Party out, and watch where he went to during all that time, leaving me and Kobra Kid to watch over the Girl. (Which wasn't so bad, she's a doll and easy to put to bed.) What seemed like hours passed, and finally Jet returned with news. Luckily, Kobra had gone off to bed, so he took me out back to explain.

“Ghoul, he's...he's...” Jet was tugging at his curly, dark hair, panting as if he had ran all the way home. Knowing him, he probably did. Jet was always the kind of guy that would rush in a situation like this. Fuck stealth, Jet was all about speed, bounding over rocks and sand dunes before ever getting caught sneaking around. Not that he was cocky, he was just good on his feet. “Dude-” He started again, unable to find the words, but I stopped him.

“Spit it out, Jet.” I was already impatient to Jet Star's....hesitations with tough subjects. He was so caring about our emotions, always making sure he chose the right words. Not that I minded, but our friend was at stake here, and I couldn't help but worry about him. I thought, at that moment, that maybe he was going to say that Party was dead, and I could already feel my heart pounding in my ears, but I kept myself together for the most part, with the exception of anxiously picking at the inside of my palms. Anxiety was never my thing, but it sure as hell was then, spiking up as I fretted for my friend's life in silence. I nudged Jet, seeing how he was still catching his breath and dazed a bit. He seemed out of it.

Finally, he spoke,“I caught him with a group of 'joys,” He was rushing now, keeping his voice barely above a whisper, “They seemed like a rowdy crew, and they were doing some crazy things...” I had folded my arms across my chest, waiting for more. Jet groaned as he continued, rolling his eyes as he tried to remember the situation exactly. “Drugs, Fun Ghoul, drugs. He was doing drugs with them.” He blinked at me, waiting for a reaction, knowing he'd get one. Damn that tall-asshole, he was right. And a reaction from me he got. 

I could've sworn I felt my heart drop that day, that, or maybe it was my whole body that fell as I fainted. Jet likes to tell the story different each time, saying he “caught me” as I fainted from the news. But shit, it was unbelievable. Drugs? Really? Our friend, the famous, family hero, Party Poison, doing drugs? It was hard news for both of us to take, obviously, seeing that Jet was still freaking out. I swallowed hard, looking Jet straight in the eyes as I asked for more information on what he saw. He told me, for about twenty minutes, if I remember correctly, that after doing some kind of drug, (Jet stated he couldn't quite see from the distance he was watching at) they burnt down an old building of some sort, cheering as it burned to the ground. They passed around drinks and sang into the night, Jet described,] dispersing in the night to fetch more fuel for the fire at points in time, only to return to the group and celebrate whatever the hell they had to celebrate about. Jet assumed Party would be home in an hour or so, and he told me that we would ask him then.

But we didn't. Neither one of us could gather the guts to go question Party about any of it, and we just let it slide. I was honestly scared of what Party might say to me if he knew I was behind Jet sneaking around and finding out whatever he was doing. I was afraid that he would lash out at me again, possibly breaking whatever kind of relationship we actually had. We should've just asked him, but we didn't, no matter how appalled, angry, or worried we were for him. Our best fucking friend was out doing danger things with dangerous people, and we couldn't stop him.


	2. Love Won't Stop This Bomb

We noticed him changing a couple weeks after finding out. His hair, it was faded, and looked as if he was constantly pulling at it. He was always dirty, smelling like shit, refusing to shower, even if we offered our own shower time to save him some water. Under his eyes, were dark, heavy bags, weighing down most of his face, which seemed to drop all together. (Even his smile was gone, hardly seen again.) Wrinkles littered his features, never there before. He was smaller...thinner than I remembered him. It wasn't hard for me to notice every little, changed detail about him, from his slurred, dry speech to the dirt and blood under his fingernails. (Was he scratching at something?) He was more distant from us than ever, avoiding conversation with any of us, even the Girl, who he used to have day-long conversations with at a point.

I told myself that he would get better, maybe only to make myself feel better. Kobra was still left out of the loop, not even noticing his own brother's changing features. Jet Star and I kept an eye on him, mostly, leaving Kobra Kid to watch over our baby Girl while we kept busy with Party. We tried to initiate conversations with him, even over the most pointless of subjects, but as I said before, he refused to stay and talk to us about anything. His voice would dwindle to almost nothing at some points, sounding sick most days. It was hard to listen to him, I couldn't imagine what holding a conversation with him would be like. Unfocused, unbalanced, and quiet, right? At least he couldn't yell at me again, or any of us for that matter. He was more and more irritable, grunting and growling whenever we spoke to him. He would hit and break things, and just flat out not listen to us. It's as if his maturity levels dropped drastically since the last time I saw him. 

I was beginning to miss his smile, his voice...But most of all, I was missing _him_

We used to go at it hard, messing around whenever we had the chance. It would start out as a simple kiss, to god-knows-what. Usually, it'd end up in dirty sex either outside, in the gas station, or my mattress on the floor. God, he was so fun. We loved each other so damn much, kissing and touching one another every time we were even close. I missed his chaste kisses and sweet words, down to even missing his bedroom talk. I missed the way he would hold me after anything; sex, a mission, or just for fun. I missed his mouth on mine with his hand in my hair, pulling ever so slightly with the fear that he might hurt me. I missed our quiet walks together. I missed his laugh...

He was fun, loving once, but now, since this all began, he hardly ever looked at me. That lust that was once in his hazel eyes, completely gone. There was no love in the way he looked at me, or at any of us. It hurt more than being ignored, honestly, and I could hardly stand it. I was beginning to feel left out, unloved, craving every last touch of his calloused hands. I missed it all, and the drugs just stole my Poison away from me.

Days passed, and I decided to confront Party about it all. I caught him where he couldn't escape, in his room. He was drawing a few things, portraits it seemed, but they were all distorted and odd. I could see that he was trying different mediums; watercolor on one drawing, acrylic on the next. They seemed surreal, colored differently than how something would be expected to be colored. Skin tones, he painted, were blues and purples. His doodles in lead where scribbled down fast, messy, but still beautiful. Drawings, art, and crumbs of what seemed like bread crowded his usual work desk in his room, and I couldn't help but noticed one of me. Probably older, seeing how it was much more detailed and focused than the rest of the drawings I had spotted. He had gotten every last line right; to my jaw, to my dark hair, to the crease of my eyelids. He was always a great artist, but I had never seen anything like that work before. I admired it from over his shoulder when he finally recognized my presence. 

Party didn't turn his head to speak to me, causing me to jump a little in my boots. “Ghoul...” He muttered, or perhaps spoke? His voice was so soft, hardly audible, or maybe I just hadn't heard it in so long? Either way, he was hard to hear, so I paid closer attention to him and his words.

“Hey, Party.” I closed the door, seeing how it was close enough, then sat on the edge of his bed, bouncing a bit in place before settling down. He turned around to face me in his swivel chair, staring me down, checking me out at one point. His eyes seemed faded, his skin more pale than ever. He looked awfully sick, with his bony features coming out a bit more. I swallowed hard, hard enough for him to probably hear it. I couldn't look at him then, finding something interesting to look at the floor then.

“Do you need something?” I shot my head back up, not expecting him to say anything else. He rubbed his shoulder, seemingly nervous as he darted his eyes to the side before looking back at me again, right as my eyes fell back to the floor.

I nodded, and that's when he moved from his chair, and sat back down on my lap, letting his arms wrap around my neck. I had hardly noticed the transition, being so used to it and all, really only hearing the noise feeling his weight on me. It was instinct to go and kiss his neck, but I held it in. Party, on the other hand, didn't. He nipped at my jaw and neck, forcing me to bend my neck. His lips were dry and cold...almost lifeless. He licked up my jaw and bit my ear a bit, whispering something I was unable to hear due to my heart pounding away and my focus elsewhere.The purpose of my visit in there became blurry, hard to remember as he tightened his grip on me. I remember him grinding down in my lap, and it exploded in a wave of heated sex after that.

And after it all, I had fallen asleep in his bed as I would've usually all that time ago. And of course, the sneaky bastard left me there, gone by nightfall to do whatever the hell it was that was destroying him inside out. I was so pissed when I woke back up, finding his spot to be cold and feeling my stomach curl and tighten with betrayal. I could feel tears swell up, and it hurt to know that he left me like this. Hopeful of our love to be rekindled, only to be left behind in his room alone.

My best friend and lover used me when he saw the chance. He used me for sex, and an escape from yet another conversation he found unnecessary. The gravity of the situation really seemed to make yet another huge drop, and not in my favor. I hated it all, but I never could bring myself to hate Party, even if I tried. And oh did I try. Every day, almost, but it was near impossible to hate someone you loved for so much for so long. But seeing Party's health get worse and worse made everything hurt even more. And that's when I decided to bring Kobra Kid in on everything.


	3. You Can't Touch My Brother

You think you caught all of us, huh? Still missing two, one being the second most important brother. You know, the other Way? The tall, blonde, lanky motherfucker who was cocky at times, if anything? Shame you missed him and Jet. It's a shame you're stuck with me and Party now.

Kobra's reaction was less than what we had expected honestly, compared to Jet and I's. To think, that hearing the fact that his own older brother, his own protector and guardian, was doing some sort of physical and mental-altering drugs, would actually shock him. But no. Not at all. He remained calm, I think, only heaving a sigh of disappointment at the news, and kinda being real awkward about it the whole time we talked. He didn't really speak up or out of turn, he just took the news, explained what he knew and left. He never really was the type of guy for emotions really. (Well, with the exception of his brother of course. He loves him to death.) Confused, we asked the Kid why his reaction was hardly anything we had in mind, and he told us, just like that.

“Ger—Party Poison never really was one to get into nasty habits like that.” Kobra started out, trying to find the right words, just like Jet did. “...He uh, he was, however, one for getting addicted to something.”

And then, he went into explicit detail of things his older brother did back when things weren't gone to shit. BLI/nd fucked us all up, apparently, and it hit Party the most. When speaking of addictions, the younger brother went and told us about how it started out as long as he can remember. When Kobra was about four years old, and his brother was eight, he spoke of Party getting addicted to chocolate bars and television shows, all that kid stuff. Years after that, his addiction was food. Kobra said that the older brother would eat so much that his weight became an issue for BLI/nd, his family, and his own health. After food came the eating disorder, of course. Unhappy with his weight, the young Party would binge and purge after every meal, and according to Kobra, it wasn't a pretty sight. Finally, when things started going down hill, the last addiction that Kobra could remember was cigarettes. 

So the path to destruction was there, Kobra just didn't pay any attention to them, and told us that his drug use was probably just another phase he was going through. And no matter how much we tried telling him, he refused to believe that it could have a chance of killing his brother. He would blow us off by saying he'll “just grow out of it eventually,” and walking away. Kobra had always been stubborn and just as infuriating as his brother sometimes, but I couldn't believe the lack of worry in his words. I don't think he even cared, or maybe, he was just hiding his emotions behind those pair of shades on that mask of a face. 

After out talk with Kobra Kid he disappeared into his room, much like Party always would, and didn't come out for the rest of the day. We continued our business as usual, with me taking care of the Girl as Jet Star ran out on patrol. Party was out, as if that was never a surprise. But damn, I felt kinda sorry for Party's younger brother. Kobra Kid was his name, but he had the heart of a man, or so we thought. Not until later that night, right when the moon was way high in the sky, we could hear unfamiliar wails coming from Kobra's room. It didn't sound human, really, just indescribable crying. We figured it was best to let him cry it out own his own. I've already shed enough tears over Party Poison.

I can't imagine what it's like for him. To lose a brother to something as stupid as drugs, it had to be unbearable. And none of us even knew what exactly it was. At times, I'd wish I had known how Kobra felt. Other times, I'd prefer to keep those thoughts out of my head. Losing a brother had to be worse than losing a lover, and imaging what Kobra felt like only brought more pain. So I blocked it out and tried not to think about it. But as time passed, things only got worse.


	4. Wish You Away

You'd think that would've been the end of that. And honestly, so did we. We never imagined our Party Poison to get even worse. We guessed that his health would decrease until he eventually died, but that just wasn't the case. Instead, we started noticing his attitude and reactions started to shift from those insane ideas he would do to a more...reserved point of view. I'm trying to say this: He became that kid that spoke even less, hunched over and slowly walking over the place. Introverted? He changed, that's the point. He reminded us of his old self, before he became the hero Party Poison. He was a shy, real kid at one point until the Helium Wars just changed him and you fuckers at BLI/nd came up and took his life and family away. You stripped a boy of everything but his only brother, casting him away into the desert. Well, he escaped, yeah, but he left, is my point. I found him then, you know? After he escaped your shithole of a city at first. He looked normal and acted normal. He didn't talk much at all. But as time passed, he became an icon to people around, and more and more people found out how much BLI/nd sucked, and followed in his lead. Thus, the killjoys showed up. I'm sure you know the story. You take away everything from a little, shy kid, and you get a rebel leader in return. Sucks to suck. Well, I guess it does suck because he got into that shit he wasn't supposed to. It was never planned out for him to become what he did after a hero. Hero to zero is the phrase right? Whatever. 

Anyway, we began to notice the bruises first. We figured he had gotten into a fight at some point, thinking that would be most likely seeing how he was so rambunctious on his drug highs. But he looked more sick than normal, weak really. When we thought the bruises would fade, they would only keep reappearing, some more fresh than others. Purples, blues, and sometimes even greens painted his pale skin with an array of different patterns. Some on his neck, arms...we could noticed some on his thighs when he was in his shorts or boxers at night. It was odd to us, so we figured it would be best to invade his private life again and find out what the hell was happening to him that could possibly be worsening his already shitty condition. 

I went alone this time, Jet Star refused, saying that it was “Party's business.” Which was bullshit, because he knew that Party was our friend and that we cared about him. So I dug through Party's room one day, alone, while he was out doing whatever. I had found a stash of carbons in one of his dresser drawer, hidden under a layer of socks and disgustingly torn underwear. Don't think it was just a few, it was a lot. Enough to maybe buy a new radiator for the Am. Maybe enough to get us food to keep us well-fed for a few weeks. If that wasn't strange enough, I found painkillers littered around the floor and swept underneath his bed. Colorful wrappers of some sort were all in his trash bin too, beneath a bunch of failed drawings. (That still looked beautiful to me, honestly. It was a shame to see Party think of his art as trash) I was about to go through a pile of odd-looking clothing that I had never seen before when he came home, standing in the doorway, staring right at me. I used the excuse that I was only looking for dirty laundry, took a pile, and left, and he didn't question it. Later that night, I thought of an even better plan.

I had snuck into the trunk of the Trans Am. That old rust-bucket of a car Party calls his “baby.” I didn't close the lid all the way, knowing I would get trapped, so I held it in place as I was driven around by whom I assumed was Party. The ride was more than bumpy, if I remember, but that doesn't really matter. He stopped in the middle of nowhere, at some strange shack hidden behind some tall, dead brush. I didn't really know where we were, just another empty spot in the desert, I guess. Looked real unexplored and what not with the exception of that shack. I would've gotten out and explored it myself if a noise didn't startle me. I heard a voice that wasn't his, and listened it. I peaked out from the crack of the trunk and stared at them. A dark figure, and a shorter figure that had to be Party. They lit a fire together, and then I was able to see their faces. 

The blonde man was tall with a bony jaw and broad shoulders. I didn't recognize his face, but he used the name, “Dust Sweeper,” or something like that. Another killjoy, obviously. He was talking to Party about money and prices, and I couldn't quite hear over the winds and crackles of the fire. Then, I finally noticed Party Poison. He was underdressed for such a cold night, wearing nothing but shorts and a jacket, it seemed. When the fire lit his face, it was shadowed, obviously, but his eyes were darker than what one would suspect to be. It was makeup. He took the other's hand and led him into the shack, closing the door behind him, and that's when it hit me like a freight train. The clues just all came together and I blamed myself for not figuring it out sooner. Just like how I failed to stop him from getting more involved with drugs. 

I don't want to go into details, really, but once I heard the screams and moans and--- just those noises that...It was hard to bear, and it made me sick to my stomach. So sick, in fact, that I crawled out of the trunk only for a minute to fall into the sand and dry heave what little contents my stomach had. It was outright disgusting. My knees felt weak, and I fell to the side to lay in the sand as I kept my muffled cries to myself. Party's voice...that voice...I never would have guessed he would sink that low, really. I thought I would never hear his moans like that again. And I hated the fact that I've been waiting for him to make those sweet sounds for me, only to make them for some stranger.

The man I loved was selling his body while we were in a relationship, ya know? Kinda fucked up. And if I had manned up about it, maybe I would've told him that it was over. But I didn't. I was scared to lose him even more. He was already too far gone for me, but I didn't want to see him disappear from my life forever. If this is what heartbreak feels like, I guess I can reason with Party as to why he chose to do drugs. Being in pain is too hard for me. At least, not like this.


	5. Generation Nothing

After Poison's crazy prostitution scandal, things only started to go even more downhill for myself and my team. No one was running the team, and we were all scattered about, freaking out over our own things. We would let our guards down a lot, and just be generally very unorganized. Jet would always be out on patrol, leaving me to clean and do normal work around the diner. I looked after Party and kept the Girl busy. Thankfully, she kept out of my hair a bunch by sticking with Kobra, who still kept himself (and her sometimes) locked up in his room. She noticed he wasn't feeling to great, and would play with him to cheer him up. I babysat Party mostly, making sure he was in his room, staying put. Party had gotten more and more sick-looking. More pale, dark bags around the eyes...all that...just about ten times worse than before. He was constantly bruised and frowning, staying to himself most of the time. He only came out for water and some food at times, but that was it, not even for a shower. But I was happy he was in his room. As far as I knew, he was healing up and getting better. I had no clue he was sneaking out his window at night at the time. 

Frustrated, I gave up. I had no other choice. He was doing this to himself, and watching him only hurt me and the others too. I had to do something about it, so I took temporary lead for about week or so. I didn't see the brother's often, and talked the the Girl and Jet Star most days. I kept myself busy and so did they, doing whatever it was they could to help out by cleaning or keeping either of the brothers content and happy. 

I focused a lot on making some homemade bombs, and would go out and collect materials I needed by trading or buying, using the carbons I stole from Party. Don't get me wrong, I was doing it all for his own good. He could sell his body all he wants, but I was taking his earnings so he wouldn't go off and buy drugs. I was smart about it too, taking what he had in little amounts so he wouldn't notice, and if I had continued to do so till today, he probably still wouldn't have. I was keeping him out of trouble, and I was making tools and weapons for our team. I managed three mines, planting them strategically around our borders of the diner. I warned everyone, and told them how to escape if caught in one. I think I did pretty good. 

The only thing still weighing me down though, taking me down into some sort of severe depression was Party. I tried to keep myself happy but it was too hard. I was sad, most days, crying myself to sleep some nights where I couldn't bear thinking of him. I thought of killing myself once, too, during all of it, but I realized the team needed me, and I wasn't going to become a problem and failure like Party was. (I can't believe I just said that.) I was crippled by my own emotions. My love for Party had thinned, and no matter how much I tried to get over him, it was still there. 

I still loved him.

I couldn't stop. I knew it was still there, lingering...holding on. I just kept denying my feelings and hoped they would leave. But a part of me knew Party would get better eventually, and my heart clung to that possibility, unwilling to let it go. I scolded myself for blind, possibly unrequited love, and yet I was still too weak to just move on. Jet Star must've picked up on it at some point, because he started taking more care of me. He made lunches and dinners and send the Girl after me to try and cheer me up like Kobra and Party. He even offered a sponge bath once because I had been ignoring my cleanliness. I kindly refused. 

If you're expecting more, you're wrong. It ended there. We stayed unorganized like that for weeks before you caught us. I can't help but be grateful, in a way, I guess. BLI/nd may have ruined our lives and the country after the wars, but it saved Party's. And his safety is honestly all I care about at this point. Knowing he's okay...and that he has a chance of getting better here, I couldn't ask for more. That's all I needed. So I'm ready for whatever kind of sick testing you assholes have for me.

Bring it on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So now it kinda comes into focus where Ghoul was telling a story about the decline of the killjoys and his and Party's capture. What's been written so far is just him explaining what had happened up to the point where he's at in captivity. Hah...there's more though


	6. You Surrender Your Heart

“Before you go, Mr.Iero. You are forgetting to mention your loss. How it ended.” It was a lady across a table from me, asking me too many fucking questions. They apparently already had all my personal information, and just needed me to fill them in on personal experiences with the others.  
Fuck this goddamn interrogator. “I told you how it ended, lady. Party never got better.” I wanted to just spit in her fucking eye. She had all the information she needed from me, so why drag it all out?  
“No, Frank, your experience of your capture.”  
Of course. BLI/nd wanted me to admit defeat and rub it in. Whatever. 

 

It wasn't hard, you know. You caught us at our weakest point, really. Party was stumbling around, as usual, in the middle of the desert. He was mumbling on about some crazy Destroya shit. He was and always has been a religious guy, but he was going nuts about it, screaming at me about his “savior.” I chased him out there, trying to talk some sense into him and get him back to the diner because it was three in the goddamn morning and Jet was up, worried about us. So of course, I had no fucking idea your troops were supposed to be coming out in the middle of the night. It was a random attack I just wasn't suspecting. Jet and Kobra saw what happened to us from a distance, I saw them right turn to disappear and hide right as I got up to fight back.

Fighting was futile, as you probably already know. I was unarmed and extremely tired. It was dark, and they had some kind of goddamn shocking sticks or something. I managed a few hits before they took me down, tazing me real good. I still got the fucking marks all over my damn body. Before they bagged my head and threw me in the van, I was looking at Party from the ground, trying to hold in all that pain from being beat to near-death. Party wasn't and hadn't fought back a single bit. He held out his arms to them, where they cuffed him roughly and put the bag on his head before they threw him in the back as well. Once the van started going with us inside, we felt the familiar barrel of a ray gun to our heads. Cuffed, blind, and still a gun on us. That was unnecessary.

We got to the city and thrown into separate rooms for a day. There was no food, no water...nothing. Just a white box with an annoying broadcast playing over the speakers. And, if you want detail-details, and hour ago, on my way here, I saw Party in the infirmary through a glass. He was being treated for his wounds as well as medicated. I wish I could've stopped to watch him for a while, but I was being pushed and shoved by your dogs. So now I'm here. Is that all you'll be needing from me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super short, I know! But now it's up-to-speed with the present. I want to wrap this thing up soon.


	7. Bring Out the Old Guillotine

They threw me into a white room next, leaving me there. I paced the place, looking for anything to keep me busy. It was just a plain white, mostly. There was a bed with sheets set perfectly on top. There were cameras in the corners, pointed at me. No windows, and a smaller room which I figured was the bathroom. I moved around to go see what was inside, passing what I assumed to be the main entrance into the room. It had a heavy lock system on it, and I frowned. Of course they would lock it. I was a prisoner. I peaked my head in to see a shower, sink, and toilet; all white again. Heaving a sigh, I sat down on the edge of my bed, staring up at the wide screen across from me on the opposite wall. It was just a monitor of some kind, I wasn't sure. 

I swallowed, noticing the two last things in room: A dresser and chair. Set on a tray was a paper and orange bottle of medication. I stood back up and read over the instructions. It was some sort of depressant, I noticed, and threw the bottle across the room, letting the bottle hit the wall and explode the pills all over the floor. I huffed, plopping back down on the bed. I wish there was more to do, really. It was so deathly quiet, I could hear my own heartbeat. 

Minutes later, men in white and masks rushed in, shoving me to the floor, hitting me another one of those damn sticks. I could feel a jolt of electricity rush through me, and I screamed as they forced my head up and mouth open. The second one of the trio popped one of pills I refused to take into my mouth, forcing it shut a second after. It was bitter and as it dissolved, it grew more and more disgusting. They were going to check my mouth anyway, so I had no choice but to swallow. Once it was down, I coughed, feeling the thing run down my dry throat. They dropped me to the floor, getting off me as I began to have a coughing fit. It was hard to breath—and I started wheezing. The next thing I know, something hard bounces off my back, rolling off to my side was a bottle of water. I hissed at them as they left, opening the bottle frantically and gulping down what I could. With half the bottle down, I threw it aside, forcing myself to me feet, only to throw myself back on the bed, panting.

I just wanted to rest, but I heard the familiar click of the door unlocking again. I shot my head up to see a chrome cart roll in with no one behind it, then the door closed again. It was hard to look over from my angle, so I sat up to get a good look. On it, was some white, folded fabric. Clothes, right? On it, was another note: 

_Take your pills twice a day, shower, and change. Dinner will come if you comply._

Fuck them. I kicked over the cart, snarling out of anger. They were going to starve me if I didn't become one of their “perfect people.” I threw my middle finger at one of the cameras, spitting on the floor as I sat back down on my bed. I didn't care if those men came back and beat me, my job was done and I was content. Somewhere else in this godforsaken building was Party Poison, probably referred to Gerard by BLI/nd standards. He always had hated his first name...

I need to stop thinking about him. Last thing I need to know about him is that he's doing okay and getting treated for all that bad shit he did. I shook off my thoughts of him, laying my head down on my pillow. I was exhausted. My body is sore and my eyes hurt to keep open. I have no idea what time it was, seeing how there was no clock or window in the room. Right as I close my eyes, another click goes off inside my room, and I turned my head to glance at the door where I expected someone to come in. But it wasn't the door, instead, the screen in front of my bed came to life, putting out only white noise and static. It was irritating. With a sharp hiss, I hid my head under my pillow as a woman's voice came over its speaker.

“Welcome to BLI/nd, Frank Anthony Iero. This is your first broadcast. Just sit back, relax, and listen.” 

After that came a bombardment of the same goddamn message, constantly repeating over and over again. I couldn't see the screen from under the pillow, but the message came in clear. It was some sort of brainwashing, I thought, listening to it once or twice. It hurt my head, and I plugged up my ears so I wouldn't have to listen. It helped a bunch, seeing how the message and TV went off for what seemed like three hours. The static returned for about twenty minutes, and I was finally able to fall asleep to that.

 

A week, it's been, maybe. Focusing on anything's become a challenge. They still make me take the pills, but thanks to the fact that there was no camera in the room's bathroom, I was able to throw them back up after I took them. They had no idea, and it was working, so it didn't matter. That started and went on after the second day, where I caved for some food. I force a smile when they deliver the food to my room, showing them a toothy, friendly grin as they set it down and leave. They don't seem too scared of me anymore. I guess I wouldn't too if I was feeding a weak, small man. 

The uniforms they made me where weren't too bad after all, a little itchy, but they smoothed out after they got washed and returned to me. Plain white pants, underwear....The top was like a scrub that nurses wore back about twenty years ago. It had my name printed on it along with some numbers an a coding system on it. 

_Iero  
46029_

The food wasn't too bad either; much better than anything we would've found in the desert. I mean, yesterday I had basically a real Thanksgiving dinner without it even being anywhere near November. Delicious, to say in the least, and I couldn't imagine Ray doing anything like this--

Jet Star. His name is Jet Star. Why did I think of his real name when I thought of him? It was hard to shake off, but after repeating his 'joy name a few times, it stuck thankfully. 

I couldn't help, however, thinking about him. Gerard. I felt my worry constantly picking at my mind, wanting me to accept my feelings for him even more. I just wanted to know how he was doing- but they refused to tell me anything. No one came in to talk to me ever, and it was a bit lonely in here. The only voice I heard was the screen that came on every now and then, at least once a day. I tried my hardest to not listen, but my hands and arms would grow weak, and I would just give in and accept it, trying my best to block out every word. I just wanted to know how Gerard was doing...I wanted to know if he was thinking the same thing about me.

_Click._

“Mr.Iero.” A voice came on, and I looked at the screen to see the same lady who interrogated me a week ago on the screen. I frowned as she kept her neutral expression. She hadn't come on before...

“Yes?” I replied, sounding a bit too casual for my own liking. My voice seemed against me today...Not that I spoke often since I got here anyway. This had to be the first time I said something out loud since my interrogation. 

“We have news.” She said again, emotionless. “Your friend, the former killjoy leader, Gerard Way has made a complete recovery with out medicines we have here.” Thank whatever god there was, I needed to hear that. I nodded, and she continued whatever else she had to say to me. “However...Our efforts on the science team are useless, as one of the board members suggested we eliminate both of you.”

I swallowed, “W-what? Eliminate? What the hell does that supposed to mean?” 

“It means, Iero, that you execution date is set for tomorrow before Way's. It will be broadcasted live all over the city, so that the people know they are safe for a bit longer from the killjoys.”

“You can't do that-!” I screamed back at the screen, and she responded to me with almost little hesitation.

“But. The science team has voted to make you a deal. If you put on an emotional show during your execution tomorrow, enough of one to get a response out of Gerard, we'll let him in here with you for your last hours together.”

Fucking monsters. They wanted me just to get some sort of reaction out of Party through his emotions before he died off. One last experiment for them to pull while they still had their enemy in captivity and alive. But what other choice do I have? I quickly accepted, and the screen went black.


	8. I Love All The Poison

About come midnight, the door to my room unlocked and slid open, and I was awaken from my sleep. I was having a great dream about my family, missing them and all, I guess. But in the dream, my family remained faceless for the most part, and it was a bit puzzling as to why. I sat up in my bed, expecting food or pills...but instead, they brought in a familiar red head. I had almost forgotten about the execution.

They shoved him in, and once the door closed, he stood there, knees bent and awkward. He was biting his lip, avoiding my gaze as I stared right at him. I hope he could feel it. My glares, I mean. I hope he knows just how fucking infuriated I am with him. I hope he knows this is all his fault. That this would've never fucking happened if it weren't for him--

His lips were on mine a second later, my attention, elsewhere. I thought this would be our last embrace until our death, but I was wrong. I didn't know what happened, but the next thing I knew, he was pressing me down on the bed with his hand, forcing his lips harder onto my own. I could taste blood...thinking that he may have bit open his lip while standing there a second ago. I couldn't help myself, pressing back every ounce of the kiss that I could. It was reflex. Even though I was extremely pissed at him for getting us killed, I couldn't stay mad at him. It's like kicking a cute puppy. (A puppy with a drug addiction, but cute and loveable nonetheless.) 

He was biting my own lip, and god, it was so fucking hot. I don't remember the last time he had kissed me like this before, honestly. Moments later, after I parted my lips to let his tongue slip in, I felt his hand tangling itself in my hair, and I let it happen. I could feel his hips grinding down on mine, and I squeaked out a surprised moan. He was already half-hard, I could feel it through his BLI/nd uniform's trousers. And I half to admit so was I and---he did it again, and I let his name roll off my tongue, slow and sweet. 

Then I remembered that there were cameras in my room! Something must've happened, because that thought quickly escaped me as Party had me pinned by sitting on my lap and rolling his hips down on mine. But the cameras—Party must've known what I was thinking, (maybe I looked distracted?), and he leaned forward as he continued to grind down on me, whispering things into my ear. It was hard to hear, but I listened, and moaned as a response to him. He grinned, pulling away and continuing. He would come back every now and then, whispering to me, and I would return my answers to him with moans and hip jerks-ups. His mouth was on mine again, and he started rubbing himself through his pants.

Oh god, I could see the outline of his hard cock right there as he stroked up and down through the white fabric. He looked so delicious like that...sitting on my hips like that. I had almost forgotten what we were doing. I whine up at him, and he smirks, sitting up a bit to roll his pants and underwear down, releasing my prize. Wet with precum and flushed, was Party's dick, right on my lap. I hadn't seen him in a while, and had forgotten his size almost, smiling as I saw the familiar sight before me. I clicked my tongue as he stroked himself, fingers grazing up along the side of his shaft, purring as he did so. 

He would return his face to my ear, whispering again, and I would nod eagerly in response as he kissed me again. Fuck, I needed this now. I needed him now. I have for a long time, but know he's mine and I'm his again on our last day. His hand flew from his dick to mine, and he smirked the second he gave me a squeeze. I could only whine up at him and buck my hips into his hand. He knew what he had to do, pulling, nearly tearing, off my pants and underwear, leaving them in place at my knees like his own. His mouth was gaped wide open, probably discovering or remembering how big I was. A sly grin spread across his face, and I nervously smiled back. 

He fell down then, his torso on my thighs as he slid his wet tongue up my dick. Shit- he looked so hot—then I could feel his tongue flicking over my slit, and I jolted a bit, up into his mouth, where he proudly took me in. I knew I wasn't going to last long the minute this all started, watching him as his mouth slid around and over my head and down my cock. In mere seconds, his lips touched the base as I could feel that back of his throat, letting out a sharp moan. I half-wished that BLI/nd was watching us. Getting hard over our each and every shared moan and touch.

Party then bobbed his head, knowing just what kind of reaction that'd pull from me. I squirmed underneath him, feeling his palms pressing down on my hips as I did. He continued, hard and fast for a while as I started moaning his name, pulling on his red hair. About a minute later as he worked with his tongue, I screamed his name, letting him know I was close. Which I immediately regret as he pulled his mouth off my throbbing dick. I went to touch myself, massaging my balls slowly when he slapped my hand away, shaking his head. Without a word, he switched positions over me, moving so his ass was in my face and his own face back at my dick. 

He should've thought of this before, I hissed underneath my breath, pulling his hips in closer to get a nice, good look. He flexed his ass, moaning and grunting as he nuzzled my dick, wanting exactly what I knew he would. With a loud moan from him, I dragged my tongue around his asshole, smiling as I did. I spread his cheeks with both hands, using a thumb to slightly press into him, getting a good reaction in return. I dipped my tongue in next, swirling it around as he jerked his ass up into my mouth. There, I sucked on his entrance, leaving a few kisses in my wake. His nose was pressed around the base of my dick, where he licked, lapping up every drop of precum. Another moan then as I pressed my forefinger inside him, feeling his ass tighten around it. Then I popped I another, prying him open to get a good taste.  
God, his asshole tasted so good, and I shoved a four finger in, diving and dipping my tongue for a meal. He purred loudly as I began to pump my fingers. He tried touching himself, and I growled at him, only to watch him smirk and retreat his hands. Then he sucked on the side of my cock for a sign of defiance, only drawing another long drawl of his name. I stretched him for a bit longer before he started panting incoherently, forcing himself to drop his ass and rake his balls and dick over me as he switched back to sitting on my hips. His back was facing me, and I stopped, looking down at what he was doing, then he turned to face me. 

He smiled down at me, where I returned the gesture as he spread his cheeks with his hands to lightly finger himself for a bit before aligning his asshole with my cock. I whimpered as he took his time lowering his hips down on mine, pressing my cap in him. He closed his eyes, scrunching up his nose just as much as I did. Fuck- it hurt a lot trying to press into him, I couln't imagine what it was like for him. He licked his lips as he focused, looking hungry as he rolling his hips down onto mine as fast as he could, getting a scream out of the both of us. Fuck-he was so goddamn tight around me, I could feel his walls clenching and unclenching and it felt so good. He pulled up again, only to slid back down, getting adjusted to my size. 

“Mmmn....so thick and juicy....” I could hear him, tilting his head up so I couldn't see his face. (Which was the last thing I wanted him to do.) He let his face drop back down, letting me see the line of drool he had escaping past his lips. His mouth was literally watering for me, and that did it. I pushed up into him, getting a scream and a moan all at once, then again...and again. And soon enough, I had a rhythm going as he hopped up and down on my cock.

I watched as he own dick bounced along with him, throwing my head back so I wouldn't get off to such a hot mess of a sight. He was dripping, and I would've done anything to get a lick, but I kept it in, making sure he—ahh...I hit his prostate then, and we both knew it as he screamed yet again. I hissed, feeling himself clench up. Another moan then, and then I couldn't hold myself back. I screamed I was close again when I shoved myself back into him, rubbing up against his prostate with each thrust. He would scream and bounce back down on my dick in return, adding extra friction and force, only bringing me closer and closer to the edge...Then he screamed:

_“A-Ah---Frank!”_

A second after hearing my name, I threw my head back again as I spilled my load inside of him, unable to hold it in. I let my orgasm hit me with force, as he helped me ride through it. He moaned again, liking the feeling of my cum inside of him, as he began to touch himself. I finished my job, however, thrusting into him for a while longer until he came himself all over my chest. His ass tightened then, and I could've sworn that brought me ready for a second round, but I quickly changed my mind as I watched his flush face fall. I opened my mouth, moaning softly as he did. Then he collapsed on top of me, not bothering to move off my dick. I stayed inside of him as he littered my mouth and neck with kisses. I could feel his cum spreading and sliding over both our body's, sliding between us as he tangled his fingers in my hair again. He began whispering to me again, and I nodded along to everything he told me. 

Finally, he pulled off of me, and my dick fell limp onto my thigh again. He kicked off our bottom clothing, as well as our shirts. We snuggled tight around each other for a long time then, getting the rest we needed for our big day. I fell asleep to the sound of him whispering my name sweetly, wishing I could die to those last words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Random smut, sorry not sorry. (But I'm actually really sorry I'm such an awful writer oh my god why are you still reading this) ((Of course the longest chapter would be the one where they had sex wow go me))


	9. It's Better Off This Way

Blinking away the sleep from my eyes, I noticed a warm object in my arms. As I rubbed my eyes, it began to take shape, soon realizing that it was Party Poison, passed out. I smiled, kissing his temple before squeezing him a bit. I was still a bit sore, but damn, I feel so good. Me and Party had some rough sex for the first time in a long time, and I needed that release. I remembered Party's face as he came...and I remembered all the things he whispered in my ear, drawing a smile out of me. It felt good to know that Party had some sort of feelings for me still. It warmed my heart up, looking down out his flushed face, his matted hair, and his chest heaving up and down slowly with each breath. He looked so peaceful...not to mention healthy. 

“Wake up, babe.” I whispered, kissing his forehead again, only to get a groan out of him as he readjusted himself in my arms. I couldn't help but smile as I gave him another squeeze. “Gerard...babe, come on. Wake up.” He didn't seem like moving, so I felt it as if my duty to give him at least another hour of sleep before our time came. It was his last time sleeping after all, I figured the guy deserved it after all this shit we've been through. His stubbornness about waking up reminded me of the good times we had back at the diner every morning, back when he was his old self. I missed him kissing me to shut me up and dragging me down onto the bed with him to get more sleep. I missed snuggling up to his small frame (that was still bigger than my own) and squeezing him until my hands would fall slack and I would drift off to sleep at his side. I missed waking up hours later, scolding myself for falling for the same trap that I always do every other day. But I loved it anyway. 

I slid out of bed quietly, letting my feet hit the floor while I shuffled into the bathroom. I looked up into my reflection in the mirror, smiling at myself. I felt...good, for the first time in a while. I had sex with the man I loved and we were going to die together. I kinda felt as if I accepted my fate and was content with my life as it was. I just wish that it could've ended better. I had always dreamed of that family to love as we grew older and older with each passing year, but I guess it was better off not happening. To be honest, I don't think Party would've made a good dad anyway. Because, you know, I wanted my life to be with him. But I guess that's all out of the question, seeing how our roads are ending here, at the same time, in the same godforsaken building in this shitthole of a city. 

Hopping in the shower, I began to think about all the good things in life that I had the chance to experience. Meeting him...the others. It was all a blessing to me. Without them, I would probably be a BLI/nd zombie by now, finding no love anywhere. I'm glad. I rinsed out my hair and scrubbed the shampoo into my hair, making sure I lathered it nice and well. I wanted to look good for my final day, and I hope Party felt the same. I rinsed, scrubbed, and made myself practically sparkle when I got out. I craved holding him again soon, so I hurried best I could. 

By the time I finished, I dried myself off, not hearing the intrusion happening in the room before it was too late. I jolted out the bathroom, only to see the familiar red hair I had grown to love slip out the front door in the arms of two big men. Reaching out for him, the door slammed shut again and locked in my face, then silence fell yet again. My knees fell out from under me, and I hit the floor crying. 

They took him. While he was sleeping-while I was distracted-- They had it planned out, probably. I should've fucking seen it coming. Instead, I let it slip right past me. My final hours with Party were stolen away from me, and I could feel the tears swelling up and rolling down my cheeks. My dry mouth began to taste salty as tears slipped past my gaping lips. I just wanted him back. They took him away with nothing for me to do in order to say good bye. No last words...no last kiss...This couldn't be happening. They did this on purpose.

“Mr.Iero. It's time.” That voice rang throughout my room. “Time to face the world.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not updating in a while. Work caught up with me and I lost the inspiration to write. I'm going to do my best to finish this real soon though.


	10. Where We Go From Here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not updating! Got caught up with work! Nearing the end of this thing soon

I screamed, kicked...everything I could do to try and stop it. Stop it all. But they continued to pull me along. Two bulky BLI/nd soldiers wearing white masks, taking me to my grave. Well, my execution site, then possible my grave. Oh, what did it matter? I was going to fucking die. The least I could do was focus on something more important...like seeing Gerard again. I'm sure these blockheads feel my muscles tensing up at the thought of touching him again, because they only tugged me harder out of my daze. I looked ahead, hoping I'd see him along the way, only seeing bland walls, littered with posters of my friends' and I's face. Fucking ridiculous. It's like they're obsessed with us, what seemed like almost worshiping at one point when I spotted a screen facing out to a wider room with my face flickering on it. 

Only white florescent lights lit up every dark corner of this goddamn building. (What I figured was some kind of “justice” center. Hah.) Finally, at the end of the hall, they pulled me into an elevator, where I stood still for them in their hold. I'd try to fight, but these guys already have two guns on me, it'd be a miracle to escape the pretty-much hivemind of all BLI/nd. Fuck that. I'd rather die with Party being the last thing I see. I've accepted it. A single, florescent light lit up the elevator, shining off the reflective walls. I could see my face, sad, yet still cocky. At least, that's what I looked like to myself, I guess, if that made sense. There was no music in the elevator, only a repeat of the same damn message over and over again: "Pills. Broadcast. Live. Repeat." As if these zombies were actually living; all drugged up on only god knows what. 

_Ding._

The elevator doors slid open and they drug me into a wide, round room. There was a small crowd, kinda reminded me of a courtroom. All white, of course, except for the small splashes of blacks and grays. There was a chair in the middle of the room, where they brought me. Setting me down, they put me in front of a monitor, where a face lit up. A judge, I presume. Cameras, from all angles, were pointed at me, blinking red lights. Shit, I was being recorded, for the world to see. To be an example to all the others. So was Party. For the Killjoys to see their leader fall at the hands of the enemy must be devastating, I'm glad a select few have working televisions. But I'm sure, after they heard the news about our capture, they've been waiting in front of their screens in groups, waiting to see what happens next. 

Well, this is it. This is what happens next, and this is the end. Fuck, I hope Grace isn't watching. Our darling sand baby. She didn't need to see me...us...like this. I could feel my heart sink at the thought of her face, seeing out bloodied corpses spewed out on the floor, waiting for clean up. 

_“...Death penalty for....”_

Oh that's right, the man on the screen was talking. Fuck him. I don't care for any of the shit he was spewing. From the tidbits I made out, I guess he was listing my charges. Robbery...kidnapping...murder...rebellion...blah blah blah blah. There was probably a huge list of all the shit I've done, that's probably why it was taking so damn long for them to finish me off. I glanced off at the crowd, most being older folks. The corrupt government perhaps. Another group of people were basically zombies; probably a randomly selected crowd to view my execution. The last group was a bunch of masked goons, holding their guns at their sides, chatting up a storm by the looks of it. For such a serious ceremony, things were quite loud. No one seemed to shut up, at least, not to me. 

The judge-screen-guy mentioned his name. I heard it, and I perked back up at the sound of it. It sounded like venom spilling from his lips, but the second he spoke of my Gerard, his face replaced this douchebag's on the screen in front of me. His eye were wide, tired. He could see me too. I know it. Then the judge's pretentious face returned and I sighed. 

Moments later, Party was dragged in by two more guards that looked exactly like the ones that pulled me in. They made him stand in front of me. Fuck. He was only a few feet away, if I reached out, I could probably touch him. Too bad my damn wrists were restrained to this damned chair. When did they do that? He was shaking, and I could make out the beads of sweat that began to form on his forehead. With bent knees, he stood up straight. He knew what was going to happen, but he was crying anyway. The sight of him like this would break me normally. Good thing it was all for show, I hope. I repeated the things Party whispered to me last night when we made love in my head, biting my lip. It was going to work out. I looked up into his caramel eyes, seeing a little light flicker. He had just as much hope as I did, making me feel a little more comfortable with the situation, despite it being my own damn execution. 

I felt the familiar, cold tip of a gun pressed to my temple. Fuck. Here we go. Time to party.


	11. Fake Your Death

The barrel of the gun left my head and fired off at the screen a second later. The guard without their gun on me started undoing my binds. One of the guards that held Gerard in front of me knocked out the other, firing off into the crowd. They ripped off their masks, revealing that they weren't BLI/nd operatives at all, but killjoys. My killjoys. Kobra Kid and Jet Star were at my side, helping me up and tossing me a gun. Jet muttered something like “sorry for being late,” but it was hard to hear over the alarms and screaming. The 'joy with Party was unrecognizable, but a killjoy nonetheless with his bright orange hair. Jet and The Kid pulled me along to what I figured to be an exit. 

The plan worked. All the things Party whispered to me last night weren't just sweet nothings, they were his escape plan. The smart fucker...He told me the plans in the easiest way he could manage, and that was whispering them to me during the time where no one else would be around to hear. He's always been smart, but damn, that one actually surprised me a bit. I honestly kinda wondered that night, how he got a hold of the others, but knowing my team, they probably snuck in dressed as guards as they are now. 

My friends pulled me along towards the door, I was ducking with a smile on my face, avoiding getting shot. I felt so goddamn good being stuck in the middle of a firefight with my friends, knowing we were all going to escape and be fine because Dracs can't shoot for shit. I can't wait to hug Party again once we were back in the Am, speeding out of here and back into the zones. I looked back to see him, but instead of seeing him right behind me, I saw him being dragged to the floor by the unfamiliar killjoy that had him in his grasp. I thought he was just getting him out of the way- to avoid getting shot, but my heart sank as I saw what he really was doing. The asshole took my damn Gerard and kicked him down even more. Jet and Kobra kept pulling me along, trying to get me to keep running and not look back, getting close to the last door. Party was screaming at me, staring right at me with those gorgeous hazel eyes of his. I could barely make out what he was saying, trying to get across the chaos of that entire room. Finally I was able to make it out through reading his lips.

“Keep running!” 

The next thing I know, the barrel of a gun is pressed against Party's temple and I see a bright flash emit from it just as the doors we escape through close. It felt as if my brain just stopped working there. I was unable to scream or fight my teammates to run back and help. They knew he was gone, and kept screaming at me to “hurry the fuck up.” I feel so goddamn numb, every bone, joint, muscle just locked up on me, and I could barely utter a word. I hadn't felt the tears that already poured from my eyes and began to roll off my chin. My heart was pounding in my chest as The Kid and Jet practically dragged me away and out of that damned building. I saw white, then darkness. They carried me to what I figured was the Am, (It was unfocused, my mind was wiped) and tossed me in. The loud, blaring alarms began to fade as well as the flashing red lights.

I wanted to vomit. And so I did. All the contents from my stomach, all those pills and shitty BLI/nd meals came pouring out of my mouth in hot masses. Disgusting. I ruined the damn floor of the Am, shit, Party was going to be pissed-- 

And I think that's when the gravity of the situation really hit me.

Instead of more vomit, I choked out a scream, only to get a sympathetic look from my teammates in the front seat, still panting. Jet tried to coo me, to calm me down, but I swatted his hand away in a fit. I know he was only trying to help, but I couldn't feel anything right now. My damn lover was shot and killed, right in front of my eyes. He did it for me. His last words to me being: “keep running.” He sacrificed himself to save our team. My body lurched forward, and I was only able to dry heave what little I had left onto the floor. Another scream, and I break down into sobs. At least I'm able to cry now, bouncing up and down in the backseat as what I assumed was the desert roads we reached. 

I know the ride home would be a long one, especially in the deafening silence like this. After a few minutes, when my sobs became soft whimpers, I think the guys took it as an invitation to play some music, it was a better idea than the silence and the sound of the road underneath the shitty Am's tires. I don't blame them, they must've gone through just as much pain as I have, but are actually able to keep it contained. I can't imagine what it must be for Kobra Kid, who sat still in driver's seat. To lose an amazing brother...it's a shame all that emotion was hidden away behind those damned shades. His fingers began to tap along to the beat of the song that started to play. Smashing Pumpkins, Bullet with Butterfly Wings. Otherwise known as Gerard Way's favorite song.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was fun to write. NGL. Short, but eh, that's all I'm decent at. Hope y'all enjoyed the ride


End file.
